


Angel

by ontaemin



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Long Shot, M/M, One Shot, Sleaze, hooker!Taemin, lots of sleaze, stripper!Taemin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 12:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7103995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ontaemin/pseuds/ontaemin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taemin moves. So slowly and so sinfully. For men that neither own him nor love him, and never will. Taemin dances under blazing hot lights and and even hotter stares. To thrumming music and the sound of bills falling like snow from where they can no longer be held by lace. Taemin kisses as the catalyst for how he actually makes his money. Taemin does it all, for those who need it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Ontae! Finally! As I said before I've wanted to write these two for quite some time. Taemin and Onew being my bias's I naturally gravitate towards them, but somehow Taekey and Jongkey came before them. And since I natural gravitate towards sleaze also, we have this: sleazy ontae. Perfect.
> 
> This fic had been written pretty quickly, over the course of two days, actually. Often when I get an idea I like I tend to just run with it, or in this case, sprint. I couldn't stop thinking about stripper Taemin and all the pretty things surrounding that idea (heels, glitter, lace, etc. (wow!)) for quite some time now and I finally decided to sit down and just write the damn thing, and I have to say I'm quite satisfied. I don't think my writing is the best but I definitely enjoy it, and that's really what matters.
> 
> I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it, a lot was written around 4:00am so my apologies for any mistakes! I hope to be back soon with something else for you ~ Feed back is graciously appreciated. 
> 
> TW for:  
> prostitution, mentions of prescription drug abuse, very, very slight mentions of rape, and slight mention of intoxication.

Taemin comes home before sunrise. When the dew has only just fallen and the world seems to be less inhabited. The air so quiet and thin, as cool as summer would allow it when distant rays of sunlight peek above the sea of houses. It seems lonely, almost, compared to the grime and sleaze from only a few hours ago. But it's nice, in a way. To escape low lighting and evil gazes to get his sneakers wet with dew and see such bright light illuminate the sky each day. It's quiet. It's simple. Over booming music and slick thighs, dollar bills pressed against his skin with sickening thoughts as to where they had been before him - only realizing that he himself is what most people fear have contaminated their money. Taemin feels infantilized under the thin fog of morning. So small in feeble, somehow more vulnerable than with his clothes off, with his thighs spread. As if God and the world is watching but also as if nobody can see him beneath the clouds, hidden and protected from the dangers that loom ahead. A foot lower off the stilts they call shoes and ribs expanded from where tight leather, spandex or latex - depends on the night - had only just been constricting. Baggy sweat pants hanging off sickly bony hips and a t-shirt that eventually smelled just the same as his costumes from lack of showers and washes between uses. Taemin breathes in, and decides, no matter how horrible the job, it really is a blessing in disguise. 

Perhaps Taemin has a tendency to look on the bright side, even under the wrong circumstances. Taemin knows this. He catches himself on these thoughts and nearly feels the need to roll his eyes, because not every cloud has a silver lining, and in most cases the silver he sees turns out to be darkness before a heavy storm. But in his life - in this industry - you need something. Be it religion, drugs, a relationship, or just hope, you need something to remind you that there's always a good side to everything and everyone. A good side to every bad experience, a good side to every bad man. To every drug addiction, to every violent attack. To every overly rough john, to every legal rapist. It's over - you're safe. You got paid - you got paid. Taemin figured, looking back those probably weren't as delightful as they sounded, but hindsight is 20/20, and there's nothing he can do to make those past memories any more appealing than they already lacked. 

22 years old, matching digits, so pretty, one of his more appreciative clients tells him three days after his birthday. Awkward and stumbling still not use to the fact that he's allowed to touch Taemin without asking, despite having been doing this for more than awhile. They're not all that nice. Some - most - are rude and arrogant and do things not upsetting enough to tell his manager - pimp, not a fun word, Taemin thinks. Some hit him and some are just too rough. Some cry and some make him cry. And some just aren't good, which is nearly as painful as the others, if not more. But there's some odd ones who are sweet, who use his services beyond stage and private room benefits. The ones that don't take him to a motel because they're afraid he'll steal or contaminate their home somehow, but take him to a motel - sometimes a hotel, cheap but with clean sheets, hot water - because they're ashamed, because they can't get anyone else to do what they pay Taemin to do, or they can't bear the thought of trying. 

Never in a million years Taemin ever thought he would feel pity for a man who paid for sex, but he did. And what those few kind ones paid for was not sex. It was not a business transaction but rather a sorry attempt to feel loved, to feel intimate. They were the ones who paid to fuck him but spent 80% of their time kissing. His lips, his body, the air with moans when Taemin had got enough and figured making them come was faster than just laying there and taking the torture of foreplay. Ones who paid for an hour more just to hold him, just to feel someone else's body heat. And that was quite possibly the saddest thing Taemin had ever experienced. 

There were a lot of sad men out there, and for that reason maybe Taemin forced himself to find positivity. He was young. Young and pretty, not successful in the traditional sense, maybe, but he made good money, had an okay apartment, and really did value himself as a worthy human being. If he let that go - if he dissolved into the crowd like every other person he would become jaded like the men who fucked him or unhappy like the ones who made love to him. It wasn't the perfect job, of course. Not a chosen, dream profession but something a barely legal teenage Taemin had stumbled into after one too many pills and and affiliation with already bad kids led to him meeting an even worse adult, but Taemin can't say it wasn't his fault. He was a stupid kid who made stupid choices. Anyone in the same circumstance would blame his mother for neglecting him or his father for running off, but when it really came down to it, Taemin made a conscious decision. If there was any blame to be made, it would be on himself. 

But there were upsides, there's always upsides, Taemin thinks. The train halts on the tracks at its next stop and Taemin finds another perk as nobody boards for the third stop in a row. Without such an odd job he wouldn't be on the train so late at night - so early in the morning. Without such an odd job Taemin would never have his pick at literally any seat. Wouldn't get to see the sunrise, wouldn't get to bask in the solitude of a 5:00am walk home. And without working as something everyone viewed as disgusting Taemin would have never had the chance to meet and weary soul cramped in the corner of the last car on the train on a rainy Thursday morning. 

If Taemin didn't know any better, he could be one of his clients. But he wasn't. He was too clean shaven and too antsy to be a john. Maybe in a few years or over a few scotches he could open up to be as filthy as every man seemed to be deep down, as he seemed more intrigued with Taemin's presence than most. Narrow, gentle eyes stared as Taemin pulled himself down the length of the car by bars above his head, his duffle bag banging against his hip with its contents of the heavy material and sharp heels. He was older, clearly. Not old but definitely not as young as Taemin himself, his jaw more sharp and despite a round face not a trace of the baby fat that clung to Taemin's cheeks and stomach. As the train halted once more Taemin found himself plummeting, unable to hold himself up due to his focus on this very unique stranger. This stranger that now seemed to be peering down at a very sore younger man. Such a godly face. 

Though the eyes of the man seemed so horribly tired and his demeanour clumsy from possible intoxication, perhaps just a disregard for his impression, he still seemed very kind. His fingers held out in front of Taemin's face as he picked up his bag for him. Taemin took it, with a weak grasp in a strong hand. And thanked him, with a smile. 

They didn't talk much for the ride, if anything they talked less than Taemin's most rude clients - the ones who came in, fucked him, and left the second they finished. But he wasn't rude, maybe tired, upset, shy. A strange and somehow wonderful bundle only nice because of the soft smile he gave Taemin every time he caught his eyes, awkward and nervous and a very adorable chuckle following as he cast his gaze down at the bag that still sat in his lap. 

"Can I have my bag back?" Taemin asks after a few more smiles. The man nods quickly, scoffing at himself for having kept it for so long. Taemin would have been fine with him holding it for him, but God forbid he realized what was inside. "I'm Taemin, by the way." He said with a smile. 

The man beamed. "Ah, that's nice." Genuine. "Pretty. Like you." He grinned so innocently, maybe a little too excited to be making friends, realizing this with a horrid drop in his smile and an averted, embarrassed gaze. "I'm Jinki." 

Taemin smiled at his embarrassment. "That's nice." Taemin mocks. "Funny. Like you." 

On the train at 5:00 o'clock in the morning, Taemin meets an angel. He's so gentle. Funny, sweet, charming - in his own little way. He sticks with light conversation and doesn't press when Taemin only answers his questioning of his occupation very very vaguely in an obvious attempt to convey that they shouldn't talk about it. And Jinki sidesteps his own, moving on to talk about how humid it has gotten in the past few days. The conversation is riddled with silences but each one after another become less and less awkward, Jinki's shoulders relax and his breath smooths out, and by the time the train is nearing its last stop Taemin feels proud to call him a friend, or at least more than an acquaintance. 

Jinki comes with him, all the way to his front step. He insisted that he would walk such a beautiful image of youth home figuring he could get hurt, lost, something that Taemin knew for a fact would never happen to him, but he lets Jinki feel big. Let's Jinki believe this is Taemin's first time walking down empty streets before sunrise and let's Jinki feel like a hero to have made it through alleyways unscathed. Because Taemin's sure he could use any ounce of pride he could get. 

For a lunch date the next day Taemin wears red. Bright red like Jinki's cheeks when he hugs him on arrival instead of a wave or handshake. It's as if Taemin doesn't spend most of his nights doing just this - stroking egos. But with Jinki he feels compelled. He feels so eager to puff him up because he knows Jinki's a good guy, maybe it's a lie and maybe Taemin just wants to believe that maybe not every man was out there to hurt him, but Jinki's smile is too wide for Taemin to not believe he's holy. 

He's awkward, very awkward. After an hour of stilted small talk he casts his gaze down and tries to spit out words from the back of his throat, choking him. With a deep breath he says, "I'm sorry I'm like this." 

To which Taemin replies, "Don't be sorry for being cute."

So Jinki grows more confident. If he had just been nervous around Taemin or if he was always like this, it changed either way. He smiled more and opened up just an inch more. Let Taemin know horrible things that were only just small talk still, that made Taemin wonder what horrors lie beneath chit-chat. The only reason he was available three days in a row at 10:00am was because he had nothing else to do - anymore. Lay offs, he rolls his eyes, as if anyone else had been given a meeting with manufactured sympathy and no severance pay. Just him, Jinki said. Out of three floors of offices and out of nearly hundreds of workers, they laid off the one person who never called in sick, who never was late on projects. The one person who valued his job the most, kicked to the street because Joe Moneybags needed one more empty cubicle to store his millions of dollars. Bastards, but he digresses. 

In the grand scheme of things Jinki is really not an angry person. Frustrated, yes, but rightfully so. As they walk between houses back from a prolonged cup of coffee Taemin does his best to console him. Moving from stroking egos as a therapeutic measure to truly trying his best to make his new friend feel better, because he cared about him. He grew to hate them too, his employers. From the way Jinki talked and the passion in his heart Taemin was damn sure if anyone deserved to get fired it sure wasn't him. Taemin told him his own philosophies on life and work and how no matter how bad it can get, there's always another opportunity around the corner that you would never have seen without it. One should be thankful of being screwed over, because without it you often can't find things you never would have seen. 

Jinki smiles to himself as they reach Taemin's apartment complex, staying a step down to accidentally switch their already small power balance. "You're very smart, you know that?" 

Taemin only smiles in response, kicking his shoes against the worn stone of steps, his head cast down in nothing but flattery - not an attempt to be coy, though Jinki might see it that way. He's not sure he would mind. 

"What do you even do? Like, as a job?" Jinki asks so suddenly, a ball of bile lodged in Taemin's throat. "A kid as smart as you can't not be doing something life changing, right?" He says with a smile, a genuine thought that Taemin was intelligent and should be changing the world with gifts. Taemin scoffs at the thought. 

"I'm a dancer." He says in all honesty, drawing a furrowed brow from his friend. 

"Like... Ballet?" Jinki asks in confusion. 

"No." Taemin says, eyes serious to hope Jinki understands without him saying it. But Jinki's intuition isn't as great as some other qualities. "On stage." Taemin states. "For money." 

For a moment Jinki stands with the same bewildered look, eyes confused as to what those words meant all together, until it clicked. Until Jinki realized that they money in question wasn't a paycheque, but rather stuffed inside what really was a poor excuse for clothing. And when Jinki realizes he doesn't react the way normal people would. He doesn't seem disgusted or offended but rather just shocked. Unable to comprehend why such a pretty face did such dirty work. Unable to understand how he didn't see it before - pink glitter sat on Taemin's collarbones like strobe lights and the scent body spray - strawberry, his own, banana, coconut, a cheap mix of every flower, just pure sugar, sprayed in the air in the dressing room from other dancers, mingling into a disgusting cocktail that never left any fabric Taemin owned. Tired eyes and late night train rides now understandable, his own sense of security when walking home late in the dark. Jinki probably wonders how he didn't see it before. 

And when Taemin's pounded in fear Jinki made it switch to adoration with a smile. A wide smile that made Taemin's stomach burn as Jinki let him know it's really alright, it's Taemin's life. Fears of Jinki hating him or judging him or hurting him were knocked out of his lungs along with air when Jinki's shoulders collided with Taemin's chest in a tight embrace. Taemin was still pretty to him. Taemin was still smart and still cute and Jinki still was infatuated. A boy he hardly knew turned into a stripper he adored, and nothing seemed to make that change. 

For a fairly wealthy, mid 20's man Jinki really had a sad apartment. There was not much to dissect. A sofa and chair in a poor excuse for a living room, a small television and mantle with only two photos, one of his parents and himself as a child, and one of his parents and him at graduation. No art. No decorations. A simple dining table with paperwork and bills and two empty boxes of cigarettes, an old cup of coffee. A kitchen island stacked with magazines and take out boxes and their receipts. A scent diffuser long past its use date. Keys, wallet, phone, cigarettes, lighter - that's all. In his washroom there were more things. Various sample sized bottles that perplexed Taemin until he realized Jinki never knew how to say no, and was probably roped into a long conversation with sales staff at department stores and given the samples from his eager need to let people have their way. His medicine cabinet - a razor, shaving cream, every kind of over the counter pain killer and sleep aid, some prescription, pills upon pills. Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, Ativan, Effexor, Klonopin, Xanax. All used just enough for Jinki to know they didn't work the way he needed them to. Tossed aside as he headed to the doctor for something else. Surprisingly not flushed down the toilet yet, though a thought entered Taemin's mind, that there might be a reason he had been saving them, and Taemin felt as though he should do the job of disposal for him instead, but he wouldn't touch his personal things. Snooping was enough. 

For the best parts of the day, Taemin decided to dwell on them. Sitting at the back of the train, Jinki-less both to and from the club he tried his best not to think about Jinki feeling awkward or uncomfortable around him. He thought of Jinki smiling and bowing his head when Taemin complimented his cooking. His shy stare for half the movie before Taemin slid over and let Jinki's arm fall off the back of the sofa and around his shoulders like he so obviously wanted. And Jinki's lips on his, for only a moment. Neither had brought up what the day was considered but Taemin figured it was definitely closer to being a date than anything else. Jinki knew he danced for men - assumed he did other things for them - and still acted close and comfortable, which was enough of a sign for Taemin to lean in and press soft lips against soft lips as he stood in Jinki's door way. Taemin favoured that to the fact that Jinki didn't call or text or contact him at all for three days after. 

It was new for Jinki. The lightheartedness of their conversations and how unphased he seemed about being with another man led Taemin to believe he had been with men before, but never men who weren't of his social class, never men who took their clothes off for money. So Taemin understood, but it hurt a bit to think that the only exception of men who showed an interest in him seemed to be too afraid to actually make a move past a smile or hug. It made sense, but it hurt. 

And maybe Jinki senses this. Because he kisses Taemin the next time he sees him unexpectedly in the train station. A quick walk from where he was standing and a bright, genuine smile that only fades when Taemin's hello back is cold. Jinki says he's sorry, conjures up some excuse that moulds into another and another because of his inability to lie, fading when he realizes Taemin's unwavering pursed lips and tense brow trained down the tube to see if the train was coming. Jinki made Taemin look at him. Made Taemin kiss him, with palms on either side of his face. His eyes squeezed shut tight like taking medicine - plug your nose and swallow, it will be over before you know it. It's hard and rough and barely an excuse for a kiss, instead just his face pressed against Taemin's because he really doesn't know how to apologize. But Taemin understands, because he's really not that good with words either. 

To accept the apology, Taemin does nothing but smile, and smile genuinely. And Jinki smiles back, because he knows they're both not good at talking. 

It's nice to find someone who struggles like you. For Jinki and Taemin they couldn't be further apart. In terms of status, education, and wealth, they weren't a match in any way possible, but they fit. And they understood each other. Taemin found it hard to talk about things he needed to, found it hard to open up not because he was afraid but because he never had been allowed to in the past, and Jinki struggles similarly. Taemin doesn't know why but he finds it hard to express feelings, tells Taemin he likes him as if the words might choke him coming out of his throat, as if Taemin didn't already know. They get each other, Taemin thinks. Maybe mislead in some conversations and facts but still nonetheless more in tune with each other's thoughts and feelings without words. 

When they kiss they understand feelings, they understand meaning. When Jinki sighs into his mouth with his brow furrowed Taemin understands it means the kiss is great - Taemin is great - but, God, life really isn't. Jinki holds him tight and kisses his cheek, his temple, wet kisses and heavy petting turned into an impromptu therapy session as Jinki tries his best to keep composed beside someone who actually cares for him. Taemin holds his head to his chest and let's it happen, lets Jinki cry, though he wouldn't admit it later, because he knows he needs it, and that's the only way Taemin knows how to fix things. 

He really wish he could though. Fix things, rather. Jinki was given so much fuel to become a perfect person. Good money, good education, good personality. But it fell through, by no fault of his own. The universe treated him horribly and for that Taemin wished he could shoot arrows into nebulas, punishing space - Jesus, God, whatever - for treating the kindest soul he had ever encountered with such hostility. Taemin held Jinki close with his arms around the larger mans shoulders as if he wasn't. Kissed his temple and his cheek to comfort him, kiss the tears away until Jinki pushed him away, saying it was gross with a tiny smile that made Taemin's heart lurch more than anyone else beaming ever could. Jinki seemed to be an angel, and God must have just been jealous that his creation was more perfect than himself. 

Jinki was a smiler. Through the bad things, through the trouble, he would smile. But not because he held the same beliefs as Taemin - not because he had a positive outlook, but rather that he was afraid of being seen with a negative one. Taemin watched the process, over and over with himself until it dulled a bit, Jinki figuring he could let up a bit when the one he was talking to had very clearly gone through hardship. But Taemin saw it in other places. Occasionally while they were out Jinki would run into work friends. Having worked at his job for nearly 5 years now it's eminent that he would see someone he knew, and that he would be confronted on his mysterious disappearance, and that he would get excessively uncomfortable about said questions. Jinki wasn't really at liberty to talk about what happened, nor was he all that excited to do so anyways. After a short introduction of 'this is my friend, Taemin' and 'how are you's and 'how's the wife's they always dug into the gossip that probably flooded the office like the plague. And Taemin saw it. The disappointment in his eyes. A silent hope from the start that maybe this time they won't ask about it, but crushed when they did, not surprised though. He gulped, broke a sweat, stuttered. Jinki stumbled over his words for a moment before he looked down, breathed in, and looked back up, a completely different person occupying his body. Worried eyes turned crescent moons and tight lips now pulled over pearly whites. All executed perfectly until his old coworker had left, and his lungs and personality deflated. 

It must have been taxing, Taemin thought. To have to fake your way through everything. Taemin wondered for so long how Jinki did it until he realized they had been living the same life with a different lens. Jinki lied to his former coworkers and Taemin lied to his customers. Jinki told his all is well and Taemin told his they were attractive. I left voluntarily - yes, your dick is big. All lies to make everything run smooth, to make Jinki's life easier and Taemin's wallet thicker. Though the two couldn't be further apart in worlds they somehow seemed to still be one and the same when it came to problem solving. 

After a month Taemin sleeps with Jinki. It wasn't planned or even expected but nearly a relief. The longest Taemin had waited before sleeping with somebody was an hour, and that was because part of the foreplay included thrumming music and Taemin's knees sliding against the stage. But he had never felt anything with them, mentally. Some weren't bad, some actually did let Taemin feel good and touched him enough to pleasure him just a bit, despite using his body in the process. But good sex with a stranger and good sex with someone you adore are two wildly different things. 

Never in his life had Taemin been nervous taking his clothes off, but in the dark of Jinki's bedroom, against his navy sheets and under his strong thighs and hands, Taemin's heart beat out of his chest. Loud and thrumming through his body, where Jinki's hands clutch and where his lips press, very obviously sensing his anxiety but not making an effort to mention it. He only kisses. Softly and sickly sweet, against Taemin's sternum as if his heart might not break though at any moment, as if he still didn't smell of sticky mix of body oil and glitter and sweat. And as Jinki's lips trail up, so slowly - too slowly - over his ribs and over his clavicles to his neck and then his jaw, Taemin meets his eyes. With a want and hunger that Taemin had never felt burning hot in his irises. With a passion and need and utter adoration bleeding from the back of his throat and into Taemin's mouth as he kisses him once more. With this, with Jinki, Taemin realizes there's no way he couldn't be nervous - when you like someone as much as Taemin liked Jinki, being calm is not an option. 

Taemin wanted it to be soft. As a contrast to his usual endeavours he wanted it to be as gentle as Jinki treats him regularly but, by no fault of the elders, that's not possible. It's too much. He's too much. To hot and to heavy and too big for Taemin to keep him mouth shut. As Jinki pressed into the younger boys body he knows that's the end of the line before he has his head back and his hands spreading his thighs wider for Jinki. From what he wanted to what he gets its a change, but by the way Jinki moves and the way he feels, inside and out, Taemin's not sure if he would prefer the expectation to reality. 

And reality, before and during, Taemin realizes, it's not at all what he expected. Jinki's gentle. Jinki is kind and caring and does his best to treat Taemin as deserving as he thinks he is. He takes his time with him. Patient during conversation and with his thighs pressed against his ears. Jinki works painstakingly slow, with his tongue, then his fingers, then his tongue again, until Taemin is keening off the bed, his shirt stuck to his skin and his hair plastered on his cheeks. He goes slow and asks Taemin about his day, even when knowing the answers aren't true, he could tell, but knows Taemin isn't comfortable enough to say 'someone asked to piss on me today'. With his hand against the crown of Taemin's head as they sway in some form between a hug and waltz and Jinki sings - hums, really, Taemin can't make out the words enough - to him in a cradle of his arms. And it's scary. 

Love during sex is nothing Taemin had ever felt in his life, nor is it something he ever thought he would feel, but he was wrong, God, was he wrong. Somehow he feels it. Feels it more than Jinki inside of him and more than his body being folded in half, more than rough hands on the backs of his thighs and more than Jinki's fevered kisses as they near the end of their first sexual journey together. Jinki holds him. Not for himself like all the others had - paid or not - but for Taemin. Holds him tight enough to bruise and stares at him as if he had never seen anything that beautiful before. It's too early to ever say something of the sort but Taemin sees past his concealment. Taemin rips through the facade and kisses him. Deep and wet and moan eliciting, tasting one too many Prozac tablets and menthol cigarettes, tasting berry gum and skipped meals and pain as Jinki moans - sobs - into his mouth with a halt of movements. Taemin hears through the near silence - panting and moaning and whining, skin slapping, wet, exchange of bodily fluids - that Jinki loves him. Each pant into his mouth as he comes undone, buried deep inside him a phrase instead of puffs of air. I love you I love you I love you - Taemin. The last said aloud with a tight grunt and a repeat softer when he's finished. Jinki doesn't speak but he says it somehow because Taemin knows he feels it. And no matter how early they are in their relationship, Taemin presses the lips Jinki loves against the lips Taemin loves and let's him know - I love you too.

\- END -


End file.
